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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25400170">I see every part of you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau'>yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, POV David Rose, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:34:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25400170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Patrick is a straight-up aficionado when it comes to giving gifts. David has known this from literally day one of their relationship, when he pulled a bunch of tissue paper out of a blue gift bag, looked away from a sentimental receipt in a solid frame and into a pair of earnest eyes, and thought, 'I hate it when Stevie’s right.'</em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775569</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>244</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I see every part of you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamie_blake/gifts">bellamie_blake</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For a Tumblr prompt for this meme: <a href="https://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com/post/623568801936654336/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts">50 types of kisses</a>. bellamie-blake gave me three options: "#6: Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift", "#22: A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party", and "#47: A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged". And once again, I fundamentally misunderstood the meaning of 'or' and just did all three 😂</p><p>For what it's worth, this is a really, really light M. I just tend to be cautious with my ratings.</p><p>Title is from Ben Platt.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Patrick is a straight-up aficionado when it comes to giving gifts. David has known this from literally day one of their relationship, when he pulled a bunch of tissue paper out of a blue gift bag, looked away from a sentimental receipt in a solid frame and into a pair of earnest eyes, and thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I hate it when Stevie’s right.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Patrick ferrets away information, tiny little nuggets David doesn’t even think about dropping and uses them to come up with something David never would have thought to ask for and yet somehow is exactly what he wants. And Patrick always seems to appreciate the things David gives him; always has a soft smile and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you, David </span>
  </em>
  <span>ready to go. But this is their first Christmas as a married couple and David is determined to finally go toe to toe with him in the gift-giving department. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem is… he has no idea what he’s going to do. Sure, he’s had plenty of good ideas, but no incredible ones. None that have made David think maybe they’ll inspire that combination of flattered and cherished and </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> in Patrick that David feels deep in his gut every time he opens a gift from his husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has twenty-nine days to figure it out. No pressure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only is it Patrick’s day off today, but it’s also a really slow day. Either of those is liable to make David restless but the combination of the two has him pacing the shop floor, desperately searching for something to keep him busy so he doesn’t spend the entire day literally clock watching. Facing the stock only takes him through to lunchtime and in desperation he winds up tidying the computer desk in the office, keeping an ear out for the bell on the off chance anyone decides to actually come in and buy something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a huge stack of paperwork in the bottom drawer that, from the looks of things, hasn’t been touched in months. Maybe years. David’s initial instinct is to throw it all in the garbage but Patrick’s dire warnings that the Canada Revenue Agency could request tax records up to six years after the fact stops him, and instead he brings the pile out to the counter to sort through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t recognise most of this, and what he does recognise he has no idea why they’ve kept. There is what looks like a bunch of spreadsheets Patrick has printed out and then scribbled all over, a few handouts from the various business seminars Patrick goes to and David avoids, a few old pages from the product binder that have long since been updated. There’s a sizeable stack of flyers from various school and community events that Jocelyn somehow always manages to get hung up in the store despite David’s vocal protests; he almost puts the collection of coloured sheets to the side without looking at them but something — probably deep-seated boredom — makes him flick through them instead. A few bake sales, the Cabaret poster, a couple of fundraisers for who knows what. Nothing interesting; nothing they have any reason to keep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right at the bottom, there’s another sheet of paper. This one David recognises — it’s not one of Jocelyn’s. He picks it up with a grin, stroking a finger over the lettering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, he knows exactly what he’s giving his husband for Christmas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needs to make a phone call.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>On Christmas morning, David wakes up to the smell of cocoa and the feel of Patrick’s lips pressing soft kisses along his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, sleepyhead,” Patrick murmurs into his ear, and David groans into the pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Patrick says, and it’s only a little bit teasing. “But you probably need to get up if you still want to swap gifts before people arrive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmph,” is David’s articulate response. He lifts his head up and tries again. “Why did we decide to invite everyone here, again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To show off our beautiful house?” Patrick is still leaning over him and David gets one arm out of the blankets to try and tug him down, but he resists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We definitely don’t have time for that, David,” he says fondly. “Come on, up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bossy,” David grumbles, but he gets out of bed, bringing the duvet into the bathroom with him to try and stave off the winter chill while he goes through his skincare regimen. When he finally makes it to the living room Patrick is sitting on the couch, two steaming mugs in his hand and a warm smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas, David,” he says, leaning in for a lingering kiss as he passes one of the mugs over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas, Patrick,” David replies when Patrick finally draws back. He takes a sip of his drink, unsurprised to find it delicious — Patrick always makes it properly, no shortcuts — before he sets the mug down on the coffee table and gets up, unwilling to wait any longer. He manages to manoeuvre the large, flat package out from behind the Christmas tree where he’d tucked it and hands it to Patrick, suddenly nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, here,” he says, and Patrick raises his eyebrows as he sets his cocoa down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This one’s for me?” he asks carefully, and David nods quickly. “Thank you, David.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t even opened it yet,” David says, and Patrick grins at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but I’m sure I’ll love it,” he replies before he starts to unwrap the gift. Patrick is maddening when it comes to presents, carefully unpeeling the tape and trying to save the wrapping paper. Usually, David just finds this amusing, but his stomach is tying itself up in knots and he kind of wants to just lean over and tear the paper off. He comes back to the couch and sits on his hands, just in case. </span>
  <span>He’s watching Patrick’s face carefully as he reveals the frame, so he sees the exact moment when his jaw drops as he realises what he’s looking at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the centre of the frame is the poster David found at the store, the one from their very first open mic night, where Patrick sang Tina Turner to him and David dared to hope, for the first time, that this relationship might be different. Around it, spread out artfully and perhaps a tiny bit bedazzled, are all the flyers Marcy had stashed away from the open mics Patrick hosted in high school, kept safe in her garage until David had called and asked if there was any chance she’d kept one or two. It turned out she’d kept nine, and had immediately sent them to David despite his protests that a copy would work just as well for what he wanted to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David,” Patrick croaks. “This is…” he trails off, staring at the frame for a moment longer before he puts it down on the floor beside him, leaning it carefully against the side of the sofa. He twists his body to face David, who has just enough time to register the unshed tears in his eyes before Patrick — there is no other word for it — pounces. His arms wrap around David’s waist even as he pushes David back into the couch, knocking the wind out of him with the force of it. Patrick presses a frantic kiss to his collarbone, his neck, under his ear before finally landing on David’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David,” he gasps out between heated kisses. “This is— I’ve never— I love—” he shakes his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> David,” he whispers raggedly, not breaking the kiss even as his hands slide up David’s sweater to pull him impossibly closer. David groans at the sensation of skin on skin, his hands moving down Patrick’s back to his ass, grinding their hips together. Patrick moans into his mouth, his teeth capturing David’s lower lip and tugging hard, causing David to thrust up involuntarily. He moves his hands back around to Patrick’s chest, fingers finding a button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas— oh, uh, good morning, boys!” his dad’s voice cuts through the haze in David’s brain and he groans, letting his head drop back with a thunk on the arm of the sofa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Merry Christmas, Mr Rose,” Patrick says, his voice surprisingly steady even if David can see the flush creeping up his neck. They sit up awkwardly, David tugging his sweater back into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hello, David,” his mom says as she breezes into the room behind his dad, who is still hovering awkwardly. “I do hope you gave sweet Patrick a gift other than a Christmas romp, dear. You’re living in wedded bliss now, after all, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay!” David nearly shouts, suddenly feeling perfectly capable of getting up off the couch without embarrassing himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He gave me the perfect gift,” Patrick murmurs, but it’s obvious the words are only meant for David’s ears. </span>
  <span>Before he can respond Clint and Marcy are piling into the room, with Alexis right behind them, and then everyone is talking and hugging and catching up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David could get used to Christmases like this.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on <a href="http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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